Push
by Katherine Tag
Summary: What Aya finds downstairs creates an uncomfortable situation between him and Youji. They must resolve it - but how? [Complete]
1. Part I

**Push **

  
  
Aya woke up with a start. He blinked slowly, letting his senses filter in. He had heard something downstairs. There it was again - a muffled thump. Suspicious. He swung his legs over the bed and ran a hand through his hair, yanking impatiently through the tangles. His hair was a source of irritation to him on many levels. He never remembered to get it cut, so it was always in his eyes. And he had endured years of teasing in grade school for the color. Not a proper Japanese color by any means.   
  
He looked thoughtfully at his sword. Should he take it down? No, he decided, anyone breaking into a flower shop wouldn't be an expert. He should be fine in hand to hand. He pulled on a dark shirt to cover his pale skin. Wouldn't hurt to stay hidden for as long as possible.   
  
A thought gave him pause at the top of the stairs. What if it were one of his teammates? No matter how sneaky he was, they were all so attuned to one another that whoever it was would notice. Well, he could always say he wanted a drink of water. Then, again, he didn't have to say anything. They would just assume.   
  
He crept stealthily down the stairs. He could definitely hear movement now, and some muffled voices. No, muffled wasn't exactly it. More like breathy.   
  
He had just decided this when he peered cautiously around the corner into the kitchen. What he saw surprised him so much he forgot to stay hidden and openly stared.   
  
Youji stood, his head thrown back in pleasure, as he gave a few final thrusts into the man spread wantonly on the kitchen table. The man wrapped his legs around Youji and held him close as both of them spent themselves.   
  
Aya stumbled back and pressed himself against the wall, eyes wide. He couldn't stop looking. His brain numbly tried to assimilate what he had just seen. Youji. With another man. Youji most definitely fucking another man. Oh Lord. Maybe if he just stayed still right here they wouldn't notice him and he could slip away.   
  
Obviously Youji wasn't just a ladies man.   
  
The thought had never occurred to him that Youji liked men as well as women. Come to think of it, he had never said one way or the other. They had all just assumed . . . But here was incontrovertible proof that Youji most definitely swung both ways. God.   
  
The couple had finished and now were cleaning themselves up. Youji seemed intent on shooing his one-night-stand out the door. Aya caught the words "roommates," and "morning shift." Liar. They shared a long leisurely kiss and then Youji sent the young man off with a wave and an, "I'll call you!"   
  
He still didn't move. Now that Youji was more alert, he would probably notice if Aya tried to leave. He would wait and pretend he had just come down the stairs as Youji turned around.   
  
He about to step into the kitchen and act like he hadn't been standing there the entire time when Youji said, "I know you're there."   
  
Aya froze. Shit! _Shitshitshitshitshit!_ He had thought that Youji, lost in the throes of passion, wouldn't have noticed his shocked face before he stepped back into the shadows.   
  
Youji was halfway across the kitchen now, a predatory gleam in his eyes, his long strides eating up the distance between him and Aya. "I saw your face."   
  
Aya pressed himself against the wall. He had no idea what to do. Events were going by too rapidly for him to process.   
  
When Youji's arms smacked the wall on either side of his head, he jumped. He was trapped as Youji placed one hand on either side of his head and leaned in dangerously close. His breath smelled of sake and cigarettes. He was drunk, then, and maybe something else. Good. Perhaps he wouldn't remember this in the morning.   
  
"Now you know one of my secrets. I like to fuck women _and_ men." Youji grinned wickedly as he leaned closer, breath stirring Aya's hair. "Want to know the other one?"   
  
Aya shook his head mutely, not trusting himself to speak coherently. He was frozen in place, not wanting to do anything to make Youji remember this incident in the morning.   
  
"The other one is," Youji's lips brushed his ear and sent shivers chasing down his spine. "The other one is I want to fuck _you_."   
  
Aya gaped at him. What? _What?_ He couldn't manage to get anything out but a strangled noise. He was just about to push Youji away when he abruptly heaved himself up on his own and started to weave up the stairs.   
  
"Oyasumi, Aya!" Youji's voice sounded almost cheerful as he stumbled up the stairs, arms extended to keep him upright.   
  
Aya was rooted to the floor. The great ladies man, Kudou Youji, had just not only admitted that he liked to have sex with men, but that he extended that to lusting after Aya himself. This was shocking news.   
  
Aya was gay. Aya had known he was gay for a long time. He had just never gotten around to doing anything about because of . . . extenuating circumstances. And, he could admit to himself, that he perhaps stared at Youji more than he ought. But the man really was attractive. He knew it meant nothing, because Youji was off limits. Not only because he had (mistakenly) thought Youji was straight, but also because he was a teammate, and you don't have one night stands with someone you have to kill with the next night.   
  
This, however, changed things. This changed things considerably. Aya just wasn't sure he was happy about that.   
  


~*~*~*~ 

  
  
Youji woke up the next day with a rather spectacular hangover. He sat up in bed, squinting at the sunlight peeping through his blinds. Empty bed - what did he do last night? Ah yes. He grinned at his memories of the kitchen. Yuuhi had been amazing. The table had been a stroke of genius. His grin faded as another memory insinuated itself into his consciousness. Aya. Aya had been there. And he had - Oh Lord. He pressed a hand to his mouth, feeling nauseous.   
  
He had been attracted to Aya since he had woken up in Youji's bed, still groggy from his fight with Ken. When sleeping, Aya had had that little boy lost look Omi wore, and to Youji, Omi and sex shouldn't even be in the same sentence. But when he had woken up, his whole face had hardened into impassivity. That was what had intrigued Youji at first - how could a person exist with that duality?   
  
Since Asuka had . . . disappeared the first time - he still wasn't sure whether Neu had been Asuka or not - Youji had decided to live each day as his last. He did what he wanted to do and he could live with that. Aya seemed to have two sides, even now. There was the cold fearless leader, and then there was a softer side - the side that smiled at scared young girls running from the press.   
  
Aya wasn't even his real name; Youji knew that. Hell, technically, Youji was the one who had named him. Who was Aya really? That's what had intrigued him at the start. His Aya-watching had come with a side effect though - he started notice, really notice, things about Aya. Things like how he moved with a kind of sensuous grace. How he always took the Friday afternoon shift off and went _somewhere_. How he really seemed to enjoy Ikebana, like it wasn't just a job to him.   
  
All of them had a mission come up that dealt with their past, except Aya. He was such a mystery. The P.I. in Youji itched to get the answers to his questions. But without hacking into Kritiker's file (which he definitely wasn't qualified to do), he wasn't going to find out anything. Aya certainly wasn't telling.   
  
He was jolted out of his contemplative state by a sudden pounding on his door. "Youji!" Ken's voice was only slightly muffled by the walls. "Aya says get your ass downstairs! You're already late and I have to go to practice."   
  
Shit. Just who he needed to see after his spectacular performance last night. "I'm coming," he answered half-heartedly, pulling on some jeans and a tank top. He yanked on a button down shirt and gave his teeth a once over while he shoved his feet into his shoes.   
  
As he clattered down the stairs, he decided he would pretend he couldn't remember what had happened. That would stave off any unpleasantness. Aya wouldn't be willing to bring it up himself.   
  


~*~*~*~ 

  
  
Aya had decided that morning to ignore Youji and the whole . . . kitchen incident. Ignoring him would avoid potential conflicts, and save Aya a lot of trouble. He didn't need a relationship right now, especially not a relationship with a promiscuous teammate. Relationships with teammates were bad. And he had his sister to think about.   
  
Yes, he nodded to himself as Ken thundered down the stairs and blew out the door with a "ByeAyaI'llseeyoulaterI'mlate!", ignoring Youji would be the best policy.   
  
Just then, Youji sauntered into the shop, looking rumpled. He collapsed in a chair with a gusty sigh. "Oi, Aya," he said.   
  
Aya didn't turn his head from the arrangement he was creating on the counter. He made a noncommittal sound and hoped Youji would get the hint and leave him alone.   
  
"Mind if I go out for a smoke?"   
  
He snuck a glance Youji's direction and saw that he was nervously playing with his carton of cigarettes, tapping it on the table.   
  
"No," he replied shortly.   
  
With that, Youji jumped up and went out the back entrance, to smoke away from the lunchtime crowds streaming by the shop.   
  
It seemed as though the tension dissipated from the air the moment Youji walked out the door. Aya let his shoulders relax and sighed, rolling his head around to loosen tense muscles. He was hoping Youji didn't remember all the details of last night, and he was just tense because he had a hangover. He wanted everything to stay the same, because then he wouldn't have to decide between a life with Youji, and a life without Youji - he never did anything halfway.   
  


~*~*~*~ 

  
  
Youji took a deep drag on his cigarette and wondered if Aya was plotting to kill him. He had done two things last night - invaded Aya's personal space, and shocked him - neither of which Aya appreciated in the slightest. He hadn't seemed upset at first glance, but the way in which he studiously avoided looking at Youji, the way he clipped his words (the few words he did speak), the way his jaw had clenched when Youji had come down the stairs, these all told an experienced Aya-watcher like himself that Aya was upset with something. And Youji had a pretty good idea what that something was.   
  
"Well, might as well go face the music," he mumbled to himself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the coffee can and stood up laboriously. He indulged in a bone-cracking stretch - satisfying, that - and meandered back into the shop.   
  
Aya was helping a frail old woman pick out some carnations. No doubt she was visiting someone's grave. Youji grimaced and pawed through the order slips on the counter for something easy to do. Aya usually did the complicated arrangements, as he was the only one who seemed to have formal training in that sort of thing. The rest of them had all learned by the seat of their pants.   
  
The bell jingled as the old woman left the shop and he sat down at the worktable. He snuck a glance in Aya's direction, but the other man was assiduously ignoring him, head bent over an order form as his lips moved silently. Endearing, Aya's habit of reading things to himself. Of course, that's probably why he only had to look at them once.   
  
Youji bit back a yawn and reached for the trimming shears and the first flower. For a while, there was peace. He couldn't stand the quiet.   
  
"Is Omi home from school yet?" he asked, just for something else to think about besides his own problems.   
  
"He's in the kitchen," Aya replied, looking intent on his arrangement.   
  
The boy in question wandered into the shop at that moment. He was holding a plate with a sandwich on it.   
  
"Hey, Omittchi," Youji said, glad of the distraction.   
  
"Na, Youji," Omi said, exasperation clearly written on his features, "next time you spill something on the table, wipe it up before it dries. It's all sticky."   
  
Aya made a strangled noise.   
  
Youji recovered in record time. "Ah, sorry about that, Omittchi. I'll clean it up later." He managed to look sheepish.   
  
"Thanks, Yotan!" Omi called over his shoulder as he headed downstairs to his computer.   
  
"No problem," Youji replied weakly. He snuck a glance at Aya.   
  
Aya was sitting frozen, a long stemmed flower clenched in his hand. "So you remember," he said in a low voice. 


	2. Part II

Well, here it is. Since it took me so freakin' long to write it, I'm posting both parts at once. It kinda took me by surprise when it turned into 3 instead of 2. Ah well. I hope that you're pleased with it . . . it's my first time writing a lemon, so I'm not sure how it turned out.   
  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  
Aya could feel his nails digging into his palm. "So you do remember," he said. _What the hell am I doing?_ Well, no taking it back now. "I was hoping you wouldn't."   
  
"Why not?" Youji's voice sounded strained.   
  
Aya was afraid to look at him. "You were fucking drunk, Youji!"   
  
"Yeah, I was," Youji admitted candidly. "And when I noticed you were there, I couldn't help myself."   
  
Youji was stalking toward him. The little hairs on the back of Aya's neck prickled. A hand slid over his shoulder and he jumped.   
  
"And when I got close to you," Youji pulled Aya against his chest and whispered in his ear, "And I could smell you . . ."   
  
Aya could feel Youji's chest expanding as he drank in the air. The flower fell from his loose grasp. "Let me go," he said quietly. He didn't want to be close to anyone. Not this close.   
  
"And I could feel your surprise," Youji continued, ignoring him completely. His hand clenched the fabric of Aya's shirt, bunching it up. "I've wanted you for a long time, Aya."   
  
Aya stood up abruptly as the bell jingled and a horde of teenaged girls stampeded in, followed by Ken. He felt as though his face was burning.   
  
"Hey guys," Ken said cheerfully. "I'll just take a shower and then I can come down and help."   
  
"That's great, Ken," Youji said. He had quickly turned away from Aya and was busying himself with something at the sink. Aya could hear the lazy grin in his next words, "You can have all the ones that aren't eighteen."   
  
"I'm not like you, Youji!" Ken retorted as he stomped up the stairs, no doubt strewing dirt and grass clippings everywhere.   
  
"Maa, maa, no one understands me," Youji lamented, winking at a clump of schoolgirls. He went back to his abandoned arrangement and sat down.   
  
Aya stood for a moment longer, fists clenched. How dare he. _How dare he!_   
  


~*~*~*~

  
Youji paced the confines of his room for the millionth time. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, turn, one, two . . . Dammit!_   
  
It seemed as though a dam had broken last night when he had admitted his secrets to Aya. Now he couldn't control himself in the other man's presence. Just being in the same room with him drove him crazy. He couldn't stand it!   
  
He wanted to have his teammate in the most intimate way . . . this had serious implications that he wasn't really ready to face yet. Screwing your team leader wasn't the best way to go about creating team unity and building trust. He knew he already had severe relationship issues that wouldn't just go away with a new partner. Aya probably wasn't the best person to expect to deal with some of his problems anyway – he had enough of his own. Hell, the guy had enough emotional baggage for two people.   
  
But Aya hadn't seemed totally unwilling . . . oh, who was he kidding? Aya was royally pissed off. He had disappeared as soon as Ken had set foot in the store, no doubt retreating to the sanctuary of his room. They all knew better than to disturb Aya while he was in his room. Of course, the way Youji was going, Aya couldn't possibly get angrier with him. Could he?   
  
With a conscious act of will, he stilled his restless feet and pondered this for a moment. If Aya was already seething, why not push the issue? It would resolve the situation, and knock Aya off balance, hopefully making him acquiesce to a fling, if nothing else. Maybe that was just what Youji needed to get the man out of his system. It wasn't much of a plan, and it could backfire and get his ass kicked, but he definitely didn't want to spend another day wanting Aya and not having him.   
  
Kudou Youji was used to getting what he wanted.   
  


~*~*~*~

  
Aya steamed in his room. He couldn't believe that Youji had the gall to touch him like that, let alone say those things. The small amount of respect he had for the man had dropped to almost zero after that incident in the shop. He had felt so stifled by the unsaid words and Youji's liquid stare that he had fled as soon as Ken had come back down. He didn't want to deal with it. He didn't want any of it to be happening.   
  
He grimaced to himself. In his experience, just because you didn't want something to happen didn't necessarily mean that it wouldn't. Hell, practically his whole life was like that. In retrospect, anyway. He couldn't say that he had though much about his family being brutally murdered before it happened.   
  
Collapsing on his bed, he let out a gusty sigh. His room was the only place in the Koneko that he felt he could actually relax. He could let his façade drop just a little bit, and stop being so driven all the time. He knew his teammates looked to his rational thinking in times of danger, and he strove to be the best leader he was capable of being.   
  
Sometimes it wore on him, though.   
  
Letting his face relax for what felt like the first time in days, he thought of his sister. Laughing, smiling, _alive_, as she once was. He shut his eyes tight against the reality of his life for a moment, immersing himself in memories of his past. _Why_ did she have to be so close, and yet so far away?   
  
He deliberately turned his thoughts to other matters. It was destructive to go down that path. If his sister would never wake up, then what he had done would be meaningless. He couldn't let himself think that. If only he had someone to share these thoughts with and reassure him . . . no, he couldn't. He wasn't worthy of anyone's time. Even Youji's.   
  
He didn't need any relationships. In his experience, love only led to pain. _Love? Where did that word come from?_ He examined it suspiciously. Surely Youji couldn't be looking for love. Most likely, he wanted a one-night stand; that was how he worked. And that was definitely not how Aya worked.   
  
When Aya decided to do something, he threw himself into it with his whole being. His quest for revenge from Takatori, his mourning of his sister, every mission he took, all of these things he poured his very soul into. Contrary to his exterior, he was a very passionate man, and he took his beliefs very seriously. He saw his goals in sharp relief to the grayness of the world around him, and committed himself fully to reaching them.   
  
His feelings surrounding Youji constituted one of those gray areas. This was disconcerting, to say the least. His loyalty to the team demanded that he keep his distance, so as not to compromise his leadership position. More and more insistently, however, his body demanded that he satisfy its urges. He couldn't help the way his pulse sped up when Youji was near, or the lingering heat from his touch. And his heart . . . his heart, if he cared to listen to it, craved companionship. It wanted someone to relieve the unending loneliness of his life, to chase away the demons in the night, to lower its shields and let someone completely in.   
  
Really, it was just his brain that was resisting this persevering feeling of want. He knew that didn't deserve love. He was a murderer. But something inside him that had shriveled up and died since his sister's accident told him he needed it. He needed that humanizing influence that would make him feel more real.   
  


~*~*~*~

  
Youji knocked hesitantly on Aya's door. _I can't believe I'm actually going through with this_, he thought wryly. _I'm going to get myself killed for sure._   
  
He was just about to knock again when Aya asked from inside, "Who is it?"   
  
"Youji." He rubbed his damp palms nervously on his jeans. He jumped when the door was flung open.   
  
"What do you want?" Aya asked suspiciously.   
  
"We need to talk," Youji declared, trying to step into the room.   
  
Aya resolutely barred his way. "So talk."   
  
Youji barely concealed a sigh of irritation. "I hardly think it would be appropriate to discuss this out in the hallway, Aya." He glanced toward Omi's room next door. "Unless you want the whole world listening in?"   
  
Youji could see the internal conflict reflected in Aya's eyes. His face remained impassive as he said, "Come in," and opening the door wider, stepped back.   
  
He stepped into Aya's private sanctuary and looked curiously around. Nothing was out of place; that was to be expected. Aya's personality always had him organizing everything. A tall bookshelf filled with dog-eared books stood in one corner. Surprising. Not so much, when he stopped to think about it. What else would Aya do in here for hours at a time? Brood? Even that was a bit much for his stoic teammate.   
  
Aya moved away from him and sat in the armchair next to the bookcase. He looked at Youji questioningly. "Well?"   
  
Youji rubbed his hands surreptitiously on his pants again and cleared his throat. The only other place to sit was the bed, so he assumed Aya wasn't in a receptive mood. "Uh, well, it's about this afternoon." _Great, I sound like a stupid high school kid_, he thought. _C'mon, Youji, use some of those great "ladies man" skills._   
  
He tried again. "I just want you to know that it's true. I want you." Great. Now he was coming off as desperate.   
  
Aya pensively drummed his fingers against the armrest. "Really," he said sarcastically.   
  
Youji stifled a growl of irritation. Aya was so frustrating. "Really," he mocked. He took a step closer, and observed that Aya stiffened and suddenly looked wary. Ah, now he was in control again. He stepped closer yet. Yup, Aya was visibly nervous. _Good._   
  
"I want you," he purred, stalking toward Aya. "I want to touch you all over and make you scream my name."   
  
Aya had apparently mastered his emotions, and his face settled once again into cold impassivity. His eyes glittered dangerously.   
  
Youji knew he was venturing into hazardous territory, but he didn't want to back down now. Not when he was so close. Another step and he'd be able to touch Aya's hair. He wanted to run his fingers through it, memorizing the texture. "I want to run my fingers through your hair and make you mine." He almost growled that last word, reaching to grab Aya and pull him into an embrace.   
  
Suddenly Aya's shoulder was in his gut and he was slamming into the wall. Aya's hands were on his shoulders and shaking him and his head was hitting the wall and his vision was going blurry and Aya was saying something . . .   
  


~*~*~*~

  
Aya gripped Youji's biceps hard enough to bruise, but he didn't care. It was all he could do to control this murderous rage boiling up inside him.   
  
"I'm not like all your women, Kudou," he hissed. "You can't just take me and leave me." He flung Youji away from him, and crossed his arms over his chest.   
  
"Damn, Aya, I think you gave me a concussion." Youji was slowly shaking his head, hands over his face.   
  
"Get out." Aya was afraid he would do something worse if Youji stayed. He needed to think.   
  
"Aya," Youji began, but Aya cut him off.   
  
"Out. Now."   
  
Youji frowned. "Fine," he spat, turning on his heel and stalking toward the door.   
  
Aya watched Youji go silently. He wanted to call out, to make him stop, but he ruthlessly quashed the urge. He didn't need Youji. Not if the man was just looking for a quick lay.   
  
Youji slammed the door behind him. 


	3. Part III

~*~*~*~

  
  
Youji carefully walked down the hall to his room, one hand blindly groping for his doorknob. He shut the door and slid down it to sit on the ground with a sigh. "Ow," he said to no one in particular.   
  
It had taken supreme effort for him to walk out of Aya's room without looking like a fool. Of course, he had already proved he was an idiot, so what did it really matter? _You really screwed this one up, Kudou._ His head was pounding in an incessant rhythm that threatened to develop into one hell of a migraine. He rubbed his temples wearily, wishing for a magic bottle of aspirin.   
  
"Shouldn't have done that," he admonished himself, standing slowly.   
  
He managed to get to his bed, hitting it face first in an attempt to lay down before he fell down. Rolling over to rest on his back, he covered his eyes with an arm and thought about how Aya had reacted.   
  
Guess he had some thinking to do.   
  
Did he really want to do this? He had decided before that a relationship wasn't really what he was looking for. It had sounded like Aya might be willing to consider something more serious, if he was reading things right, though. However, Youji wasn't sure if _he_ was willing. It was so soon after her . . .   
  
For God's sake, they were both fucking _assassins_! One of them could die on a mission tomorrow. Was he willing to take that risk?   
  
He didn't know. He truly didn't know.   
  
He didn't want to be left behind again.   
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
Aya sat down heavily in his armchair, dropping his head into his hands. Youji had the power to make him so angry he lost control. He had to think rationally about this. Unfortunately, with his heart and his body teaming up against his mind, rational thought was difficult to achieve.   
  
He had handled the situation badly; he knew that. Youji brought out the worst in him, it seemed. His teammate appeared bent on getting him into bed. And was that such a bad thing? He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of Youji's breath on his neck, smelling the faint scent of him that still lingered in the room.   
  
But what if sex was all Youji wanted? Aya knew that he would needed more out of a relationship than just a quick release. The blond was a notorious playboy, and might just be looking for a quick fling, although Aya was willing to give him credit for more brains than that. Youji was smart enough to know that relationships that damaged the dynamics of the team were a bad idea. He had learned his lesson with Neu. So did that mean he wanted more?   
  
He pressed his eyes with his fingertips, trying to decide what to do. Confront Youji or ignore him? Ignoring him hadn't seemed to work so well. He laughed shortly. No, it hadn't worked at all. Youji had just pushed a little harder. Well, the least he could do was stop by and make sure he really hadn't given Youji a concussion. He could even (though the thought of it stuck in his throat) apologize for his violent behavior.   
  
He needed to have a nice talk with Youji Kudou.   
  


~*~*~*~

  
  
Youji was startled out of his light doze by a business-like rap on his door. "What?" he called out sleepily.   
  
"It's me," Aya said, just loud enough to be heard through the door.   
  
Youji sat up in surprise. "Oh," he said, glancing around his room to make sure it wasn't _too_ dirty. "Well, it's unlocked."   
  
Aya blinked slowly as he closed the door behind him, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of Youji's room. He looked around, trying to be nonchalant. The first word that came to mind was clutter. Every available surface was covered with knickknacks, magazines, clothes, decks of cards, shells, ashtrays, candles . . . it seemed as if Youji collected stuff. There were no pictures. Just like the rest of them, Youji had cut off ties to the real world a long time ago. A leather armchair sat near the window. The drapes were closed, but fluttering from a slight breeze. Aya felt goose bumps raise on his arms. He smoothed them unconsciously. "Do you bring people here?" he asked suddenly.   
  
Youji ignored Aya's question. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. It was hard to explain. "What do you want?" he asked, feeling around on the floor for his cigarettes.   
  
"Ah," Aya stood, feeling uncomfortable. "We need to talk."   
  
"Mm." Youji fished around in his jeans for his lighter. He lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply.   
  
Aya walked over to the window, moving the drapes aside so he could look out. They both were silent for a moment.   
  
"I think I owe you an apology," said Youji quietly when he was done with his cigarette.   
  
Aya turned to look at him. His face was in shadow and Youji couldn't see his expression.   
  
"I guess," he put his butt out on a handy plate, "I guess I don't really know what I want."   
  
Aya turned back to the window. That figured. Youji didn't know what he wanted. That meant that, if this turned into some kind of relationship, he could walk away at any time, leaving Aya on his own again. Well, it just wasn't good enough!   
  
Without him noticing, Youji had come up behind him. He put his hands on Aya's arms, propping his chin on Aya's shoulder. "Do you know what you want?" he whispered.   
  
"Don't push me, Kudou," Aya said harshly. "It has to be all or nothing."   
  
Youji stepped back. Aya could feel his skin burning where Youji had touched it. They stood that way for what seemed like an eternity.   
  
"I'm just afraid," Youji said, almost too softly for Aya to hear.   
  
Aya clenched his hands into fists and admitted something that he had never admitted before, not even to himself. "Me too."   
  
Youji tentatively reached out to Aya and turned him so he could see his eyes. "Then do you?" he asked, not really knowing what the end of the question was.   
  
"Yes," Aya whispered, his eyes burning into Youji's. He reached out and ran his fingers along the back of Youji's head. "There aren't any lumps," he said, trying to apologize.   
  
Youji chuckled, his eyes sliding closed. "I'm not that easy to kill, am I?" he said, leaning into Aya's hand as if it were a caress.   
  
"No."   
  
Youji's hand came up and cupped Aya's chin. "You sure you want this?" he asked. He stared searchingly into Aya's face.   
  
"Yes." Aya felt as though he was drowning in that forest green gaze. The shadows deepened and lengthened as they stood frozen, locked in each other's eyes.   
  
Then Youji's lips were softly, gently exploring the contours of his mouth. He kissed back, savoring the feeling. Youji slid his tongue inside, and they spent a few moments just standing, memorizing each other's taste.   
  
Youji slid his hands underneath Aya's shirt, caressing his back and sending teasing little shivers down his spine. He wasn't even aware that they were moving backward until his calves hit the bed. Youji chuckled at his look of surprise.   
  
"Only as far as you want, Aya." He was suddenly serious.   
  
"I want you," Aya said, stripping off his shirt himself and reaching for Youji. "All of you."   
  
Youji's eyes glinted in the semi-darkness of his room and suddenly he was on his back in Youji's bed, Youji kissing him insistently and running his hands up and down Aya's skin. He pulled on Youji's shirt until he stopped and skimmed it over his head. Aya brushed his hands along Youji's back, lightly touching him, enjoying the feeling of warm, silky skin. Youji flinched when he touched two round scars, just below where his heart would be.   
  
"Sorry," Aya murmured, stroking Youji's arms. He, too, had scars like those. The scars that never quite healed.   
  
Youji pressed his face into Aya's chest for a moment, and then grinned. Aya could see his teeth gleaming in the dark. "It doesn't matter now," he said. He ran his hands tenderly through Aya's hair. It was as silky as he had dreamt it would be. "You're so fucking sexy, Aya," he groaned. No one, not even Asuka, had made him feel this way, as though he wanted to kiss him and never stop.   
  
Aya felt as if he were on fire. Youji's mouth was everywhere, hot and wet. When a few licks on his nipples failed to get a response, Youji asked, "Where do you want me to touch you?"   
  
"Neck," Aya gasped, and Youji latched onto his neck, nibbling and sucking. His tongue traced wonderful patterns over the shell of Aya's ear. His hips bucked as Youji moved to the hollow of his throat, and he arched his back, trying to touch all of him at once. He could feel the familiar tightening in his groin, and he gripped Youji's arms.   
  
Youji kissed him once more on the mouth, hard, and then stood up and pulled his jeans off. Aya wiggled out of his pants, trying not to tangle up the important bits. When he had finally dropped them on the floor, he turned his head toward his teammate, now lover. The word sent shivers down his spine.   
  
--CENSORED--   
  
To read the full version, please visit my website.   
  
--CENSORED--   
  
"Mmmmm." Youji squeezed him slightly. "That was good," he murmured.   
  
Aya laid his head down on Youji's chest and listened to his heart beating. Youji stroked his hair. They dozed lightly for a while, Youji sliding his fingers through Aya's hair and Aya tracing patterns on Youji's chest. There would be time for talking and planning later on. This night, they both just wanted to savor the other.   
  
Youji dropped a kiss on the top of Aya's head. "You gonna sleep here tonight?"   
  
Aya felt warm and safe, wrapped in Youji's arms. "My room tomorrow," he said gravely.   
  
Youji's laugh was more movement than sound. "All right then." His arm tightened around Aya briefly and then he let his body relax. Soon, his breathing was deep and even.   
  
Aya lay awake for a while longer, thinking strange thoughts about paths and lives. _You never know when someone's gonna come along and push you off the path,_ he mused. But sometimes, that was the best thing. To make a new path. He fell asleep memorizing the rhythm of his lover's heart. 


End file.
